


A Coil in the Skein

by MildredJosephine



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4834001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MildredJosephine/pseuds/MildredJosephine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If only you had worn that woolly thing when you were a templar. We might have had more reasons to laugh in the Gallows, and you could have saved us a war."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be multi-chapter. Not sure why it's saying 1/1.

_With every breath that managed to escape her chest, Bethany Hawke grew more and more certain she was coming to her last._

_Meredith's once intimidating stature shriveled to the hardened husk right there before their eyes. Metal scraped metal as the templars drew their swords. Some of them pointed their weapons at the four of them. Some of them simply held their blades limply at their sides. They seemed as clueless as she felt._

_Under most circumstances, Bethany liked to think she had an above average strength of willpower. Even still, she could not fight the impulse she had to find him. If she did not hate herself before, surely she did now. It was a small comfort that he had been staring at her already, though not much of one. His sword was lowered, but never unready. The disgust with herself rose as she searched him for injury. The most severe of his wounds was a disturbing gash on his mouth. He was favoring his side, but otherwise seemed unmolested._

_"Go," Knight-Captain Cullen whispered, casting his gaze on the stone beneath their feet. "Before more come." The deep cut on his upper lip and consequential blood dripping from his mouth slurred his speech a bit. Garrett, for all of is smugness, seemed truly at a loss of words. Bethany wasn't sure if that had ever happened before in his life._

_"Hawke," Varric said. "I got a boat down by the docks that can get us out of the city. I think now would be the time to use it."_

_"Lead the way," Garrett said, his voice gravelly with emotion behind his veneer of self assurance. Bethany watched as her brother, along with Varric and Isabela, made his way through their crowd of templars at their new leader's approval. It was as symbolic as it was picturesque. That was her brother. Whatever a quip couldn't solve, his daggers could. He forged his own path in the chaos, and never settled for anything less. She froze, uncertain if Cullen meant to let her escape as well, with her being a mage. Cautiously, she turned back to look at him, a flood of emotion filling her belly as his warm, honeyed eyes met hers once more. He no longer looked at her as if she were oil-soaked kindling waiting to ignite and consume him. He hadn't looked at her like that in quite some time._

_"You coming, Sunshine?" Varric called. Bethany looked back to the retreating group as her brother turned back, seemingly surprised she had not been following him. Once again, she would be allowed to take refuge in his shadow after so many painful years apart. But unlike Carver had, Bethany had felt safe there, and had been so very long since she had felt safe. Her brother had been her protector for her entire life, and returning to his side called to her like a beacon during a raging storm._

_She turned back to Cullen, whose gaze had not wavered from hers. Cautiously as a doe, she approached the knight-captain, ignoring the templars surrounding her and the incredibly tense echoing her footsteps made in the silent courtyard. They all slowly lowered their swords as their unofficial commander showed no aggression toward the encroaching mage. Their enemy, now; for Thedas would burn until either the mages or templars emerged the victor. There would be no turning back: Anders made sure of that. She felt as if her mana pool were as dried up as freshly tanned leather, but the blood dripping from Cullen's mouth caused her heart to skip a beat. It seemed an eternity before she finally stood within arm's reach, her eyes fixed on his as she reach his hand up to his face. He froze, but there was no longer fear in his eyes. The last vestiges of her magic sealed the hanging piece of skin back to his lip, pulling the blood dripping down his mouth back into wound that slowly closed into a much more innocuous cut._

_"Maker go with you, Cullen," she said, trying desperately to keep her voice from breaking, her hand still hovering just inches from his face._

_"May he turn his gaze on you, Bethany," he replied, her title decidedly missing from the front of her name._

_If her body had ever truly been possessed by a being other than herself, she couldn't imagine it would be much different than the moment she threw herself toward him, taking his lips in a kiss that she was quite certain she would regret in less than a minute. It was not as passionate as she had imagined in her more private fantasies conjured in the past several years. Reality rarely measured up to the dream, and she was acutely aware of his tender upper lip, in spite of her healing. It was not until she felt his gauntlet behind her head and him pressing his mouth even more into hers that the fire ignited within her chest -and another place she wouldn't discuss, even in her own mind. It was, for once, as she imagined it would for the pathetically long time she had pined for this man -this templar, who viewed her people as little more than a dangerous liability for humanity. It was over before it truly began as they pulled away, two tears falling from either of her brown eyes. She turned and ran, and it was her turn to lead their bedraggled group to the docks as her brother and company stared gaping behind her. She slowed her pace to a hurried walk, squeezing her eyes shut as she fixed her eyes on the path out of Hightown. Garrett seemed to be mumbling some sort of threat in Cullen's direction, but she could tell it was mostly a formality, and didn't feel the need to intervene. She only wanted to get out of the Maker-forsaken city and never look back._


	2. The Hawke Siblings Together Again

Bethany could feel gooseflesh rising on her arms, but in a good way. She knew he was back.

She turned from her large workbench, wiping the sweat from her brow as she searched for him. The loose strands of her hair left their place on her forehead, joining her thick, long, black braid down her back. Growing her hair out had been her one impractical decision over the last several years, but she considered it her one luxury. She had spent far too much of her life trying to hide her appealing features to avoid attention of templars. She searched the crowd of the ailing and homeless refugees that grew in umber every day until she found the one she was looking for.

Her brother broke into a grin when he knew she had spotted him, and she darted to him without a second thought. She felt a youthful spring in her step that made her more youthful than she had in quite a while, and not the oldest twenty-seven year old in the world. Garrett's laughter filled her ears when she threw her arms around him as he lifted her up of her feet in a tight embrace. Every time they parted ways, she knew there was chance she would never see him again. Every time he once again defied those odds, she counted it as a reason to celebrate.

"And here I thought you would be too busy for your poor, unfortunate brother," Garrett said, setting her down on her feet.

"Oh, Garrett," Bethany said, her voice hinting of false complaint. "I can surely spare the Champion himself a few moments." Her brother gave a sheepish sort of look, and Bethany can feel a small amount of laughter leaving his eyes. Still, Garrett had enough well of humor to still leave him with plenty.

"Feeling less like a champion and more like a vagrant every day," he said, setting his greatsword down on her table. Bethany winced as several bottles scattered to the floor. Garrett mumbled an apology, though he was far too sure of himself to ever be embarrassed at his accident.

"Don't worry. It only took a couple of hours worth of work," she replied, picking up the bottles that managed to survive the fall.

"This place is looking great," he commented, watching the swarm of activity of refugees deep in their hidden ravine. "I never would have thought Orlais would agree with you so much."

"There are many people who need help. With both the war between the mages and templars, and now between the Empress and the Grand-Duke, as always, there are innocents caught in the middle."

"You always have a soft spot for refugees," Garrett commented, examining her painfully organized system of ingredients and potions.

"We were once refugees. It would have been nice to have had a helping hand once in a while. They came few and far between, if they came at all." Hawke nodded, sadly.

"This is the longest you have stayed anywhere since we left Kirkwall. Do you get along well with, what's his name, Fairbanks?"

"He's a good man," she replied. "I admire him very much. He's a bit arrogant, but he works hard to protect these people. They needed a healer down here where no one had to risk going near those damned Freeman, or whoever they are." Her brows came together in irritation. "Why is it that as soon as their is a crisis, there are men that prey on those that are vulnerable? It's so unfair."

"I'm hardly in a place to lecture on the nature of evil, sister. I'm more fit to simply stomp in its head when I see it." Bethany gave a humorless smile.

"I'm sorry, I'm spoiling your visit. Can I get you some tea?" she asked, turning to put water on to boil before he answered. "What is your newest adventure you have planned? Do you think you might stay a while here? I'm not sure if you've seen much of the Dales, but the Emerald Graves are simply magnificent. I haven't been able to examine as much of the ruins as I'd like, with the deserters roaming about."

"Varric wrote to me," Hawke said suddenly. Bethany turned away from the pot she was placing on the fire, eyes lighting up with delight.

"Varric?" she asked excitedly, to which Hawke nodded in confirmation. "What in the world has he been up to? I haven't received a letter from him in months."

"He's been quite busy, from the sound of it. Have you heard of the Inquisition?" Bethany frowned in thought, but shook her head. "I suppose news would be hard to come by, down here. They are a new sort of organization. The seek to restore order after the explosion at the Conclave." Bethany sighed.

"The best of luck to them," she said with little enthusiasm. "Whoever is responsible for the Conclave made sure we will most likely never see peace in our lifetime. Here I thought Anders was the final nail in our coffin, but I was wrong."

"Varric doesn't seem to think so," Hawke replied. "He has fully joined them."

"Varric?" Bethany questioned, eyes growing even wider than usual. Her brother nodded. "How are they trying to restore order, exactly?"

"They have done incredible work stabilizing pockets of Fereldan in the name of Andraste though the Chantry has highly opposed them. The Hinterlands, like so many regions, have been torn apart by the templars and the mages. The area has become much more secure, aside from a few thugs here and there. The Inquisition has established a lot of help there to help the refugees."

"That sounds so-" she paused, "selfless." Garrett smirked, sitting down on one of her small chairs that was far too small for him and his armor.

"It's a mad world we have nowadays," he said. "But he believes in their cause, and their leader. His name is Maxwell Trevelyan. He was a mage from the Ostwick Circle. He was the sole survivor of the Conclave, and was just named Inquisitor."

"Why do I get the distinct feeling you are trying to sell me an idea, brother dear?" Bethany asked, placing a cup of tea in front of him as she sat to sip hers. Garrett smiled at his sister's usual perception, though the unease in his countenance had not subsided.

"Corypheus attacked them at their base in Haven," he said. She frowned, warming her hands with her small cup.

"But you killed him," she said quietly. "We saw him die."

"Not dead enough," Garrett replied. "Varric said they barely made it out alive. Their Inquisitor stayed behind and buried Haven with a trebuchet and a mountain, and Corypheus fled. Trevelyan appeared half a day later half-frozen, but alive."

"Sounds like someone I know," she said uneasily. Corypheus had been a formidable enemy "Drink your tea. It will help the soreness in your shoulders." Garrett did not even have to wonder how she knew of his mild injury, and he had long since stopped asking. He complied.

"They've relocated to a fortress in the mountains. In spite of everything, they are growing. Varric has asked me to come and speak to this Inquisitor about what I know about Corypheus. The are going after him again. I was wondering if you might want to come along." Bethany smiled.

"The Hawke siblings together again?" she asked.

"I thought it would be nice," he said. "I've missed you. A great deal."

"And I you," she replied, taking a deep breath as she looked around her small, makeshift clinic. "Well, Fairbanks will be upset, but, I've trained a few healers over the past several months. They should be able to hold it down here, while I'm away."

"I know you are doing amazing work here, sister. You always do. But, I think you might really like to see what they are trying to do. I thought instantly of you as I read his letter. To hear Varric actually speak passionately about anything. I don't know. I think it brought a tear to my eye." Bethany rolled her eyes.

"You really must learn to use your jokes sparingly, Garrett. We haven't even left yet, and I'm already remembering what a horrid traveling companion you are."


	3. 50 Shades of Red... for Cullen's Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a head's up, the italicized portion takes place after Bethany's mother's death, and gets a little dark. There is a mention on some suicidal thoughts. It's not really the tone of the vast majority of the story, so I just wanted to give a heads up.
> 
> I also might be playing around with the timeline a bit, but anything I change, I will make very clear.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

_If it had been a physical wound, Bethany was sure her body would have gone into shock by now. But her pain was not physical, and there was no end to the amount of suffering she could endure. She could not simply wave her hands and seal this pain shut. If mages were so very dangerous, she certainly shouldn't feel this helpless._

_She was out when she wasn't supposed to be. She was in an area she wasn't supposed to be. Most mages who tried to end their lives did so on one of the front walls. There was only water beneath, and there was a chance of survival and escape. But it was a high wall and difficult to climb. Most could barely scale the first half. Mages did not have access to the wall upon which she was currently perched. It was dark and secluded, meant for patrols on the lookout for escapees. It had been easy enough to drug the guard's lyrium without them noticing. Felandris was a very pleasant sedative, and gave her plenty of time to contemplate her options with the templars resting peacefully in the guardhouse. She looked down at the jagged rocks below where she sat. There would be no surviving that._

_She took a drink of the rum Isabela had smuggled in for her birthday. Bethany never drank. There was too much to risk with her magic. It certainly wasn't allowed in the Gallows. She doubted the pirate imagined her mother's murder would be her reason for indulging._

_She no longer cared about getting caught. Caring was exhausting. It was so much easier not to care than to care. The too small bottle finally came up empty when she moved it from her lips. She extended as far as she could with her arm, and watched as it fell. It was too dark to really see it hit the ground, but she heard the shatter, even among the waves crashing upon the shore._

_"Enchanter Bethany?" She did not have to turn her head to know who it was. Knight-Captain Cullen: the very one who had brought her here to this prison. He was just as responsible for her mother's death as that madman. If not for him, she would have been their to protect her. Maybe if she was lucky, she could take him with her on the way down._

_She physically shook away the thought. She did not like thinking like that._

_"Knight-Captain," she greeted coldy without turning her eyes from looking out. "This is not your post. You normally survey the courtyard at this hour."_

_"The guards who were stationed here didn't report in. I came to check on them." He paused. "Did you have something to do with that?"_

_"I drugged them," she replied simply, still keeping her gaze on the distance. "Templars are so very weary all the time. So reliant upon poison to stay vigilant. They didn't even notice the taste. But they should be well rested in the morning." There was an extremely long pause, and she still refused to look at him._

_"Tampering with the lyrium of a templar is a severe offense, Enchanter."_

_"You could execute me," she said. "Or make me Tranquil. I suppose that would solve both our problems." She looked down. "Or I could just save you the trouble here."_

_"Can you get off of the wall, please, Enchanter?"_

_"Why?" she asked, turning to face him._

_"I heard the news of your mother," he said cautiously. She scoffed bitterly._

_"You and half of Kirkwall," she spat._

_"I know this is not you. You've been a peaceful and dedicated Enchanter. You are hurting right now. This is not what you want. If you come with me, we can just forget this ever happened." Bethany narrowed her eyes._

_"The staunch and severe Knight-Captain Cullen is offering to cover the sins of a mage?" she questioned. She hopped off of the wall, approaching him with a boldness she would have never dared had she been sober and not half-blind with grief. "Would it not alleviate your burden? One less mage to have to watch?"_

_"That's not-"_

_"That's what you told my brother, was it not? Before you knew what I was? Are you not fighting a losing battle? Because every day more of us are born? We are not people, we are those not your words?" He swallowed, but made no reply. She grew angry the longer he refused to answer. "Say it," she commanded harshly._

_"Those were my words," he said. She was too drunk to read his tone._

_"Weapons should not be able to feel this. If my birth was my mistake," she said softly, turning back to the wall, "perhaps I can unmake it. I'm surprised the Circle makes any effort at all to stop us from ending ourselves. I would think you would rejoice at the numbers that would try to end your plight."_

_"Bethany," he said, his voice raw with some sort of emotion. It could have been anger as much as it could have been concern. She could hardly tell -or care- though she was vaguely aware he had not called her 'Enchanter.'_

_"I thought I was being brave," she said quietly. "I thought I was saving them. They wouldn't have to be burdened with me any longer. So many years of hiding and running. I thought I could give them a normal life. But I wasn't there. I wasn't there when she needed me to protect her. I could be happy here, and play the good little mage, if I knew they were happy too. But my mother is gone. Killed by a mage. By someone like me." She was not sure for how long she stood their, waiting for a wave of courage to finally end the blight upon the world that was her life, but she couldn't, and she hated herself for her cowardice._

_She felt his heavy, gauntleted hand on her shoulder, and was sure he was going to do what she could not, and finally end her. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for his sword to pierce her back or to be pushed over the wall. But it did not come. His other hand reach for her other shoulder, and he turned her around. Before that night, she would have set herself on fire before she let a templar see her cry; but her pride no longer mattered. Nothing did. She was not sure what she she expected to find in the Knight-Captain's eyes, but compassion was not it. His brown eyes were soft, his brows for once not forming a slight scowl as he observed her. She flinched when his hand came to her face, pausing just before the cold metal gently scraped the soft flesh of her cheek. It felt pleasant, as her face was hot from the rum._

_"You are not a mistake," he said. And she could not get the tears to stop. "And he was nothing like you."_

* * *

Cullen felt as if his head were going to split into a thousand shards the longer he looked at the plans before him. The throbbing seemed to radiate from one point of his skull to another, with images of Haven bouncing somewhere in between. It was altogether unpleasant for nine o'clock in the morning.

He had failed. It was the line that he repeated to himself over and over again. His one responsibility had been their safety, and he had fail them all. If it had not been for that passage. If it had not been for the Inquisitor willing to distract Corypheus, it would have been over then and there. Too much of their survival had depended upon sheer luck rather than careful planning, and it chilled him to his core. No matter how prepared he tried to be, they only ever seemed to survive by the skin of their teeth.

It had already been two weeks, and Skyhold was still not nearly close enough to being ready as he needed. The guards were spread far too thin for his liking. He had more fresh recruits than trained soldiers. The list of casualties from Haven grew by a few names every day, and every one seem like a mark against his very soul. The Inquisitor had reassured him that they could never have gotten out so many without his quick planning. It brought Cullen little peace, but he still took a small comfort in Trevelyan still trusting them to command their forces. His symptoms were growing worse by the day, and the commander knew he would need to tell the Inquisitor about his condition.

"Take a break, Curly," he heard in a deep voice behind him. The Commander almost resented that Varric's nickname barely even phased him anymore. "You look like a stiff breeze could blow you over. When was the last time you slept?"

"I can sleep when I know this fortress is secured," Cullen replied gravely. "We have too much work ahead before that is achieved."

"Far be it from me to keep you from running yourself into the ground," Varric said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Listen, I know you've got a lot on your plate, but, I thought it would be a courtesy to let you know. With Inquisitor's permission, I invited Hawke to Skyhold. He should be arriving any day now." Cullen froze, his brown eyes slowly lifting up to look at the dwarf, who seemed less at ease than normal.

"The same Hawke whom you told Cassandra you had no way of contacting?" Cullen questioned, though there was a small amount of humor in his voice. "I'm assuming you are not extending her the same courtesy." Varric had the decency to look at least a little sheepish.

"I figure she'll find out soon enough," he replied easily. "She hates my guts, as it is. I surely can't make it any worse."

"Any particular business Hawke has with us?"

"Hawke was there when Corypheus was released from his prison."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Cullen asked as his eyes went back to his blueprints. Varric could not hide the smirk from the corner of his mouth.

"It certainly does sound like our boy doesn't it? I thought he might have some insight into how to go about killing him. I told him about what we're trying to do here. He wants to come help, for as long as he can, now that he knows we're not a secret Chantry decoy waiting to kill him." Varric paused. "He said Bethany was coming along with him, too." The charcoal stick in Cullen's hand snapped in the middle of the note he was taking, and it was painfully obvious the commander was trying to play it off.

"It's good to know they are both alive and well," Cullen said, his words spilling out a bit too fast to be considered 'casual.' "The Inquisition I'm sure can benefit greatly from their talents. I know Kirkwall did, at one time."

"Bethany has actually been in Orlais for a while know, did you know? She always did want to travel. She's been working as a healer and teacher among the refugees. Some call her the 'Savior of the Dales' or 'Angel from Fereldan.' But that's just what I hear." Cullen gave Varric a pointed look, fully aware the dwarf was up to something, though he was not sure exactly what his motive was.

"That is good to hear, but unsurprising," he said, having gained a sense of control over his rate of speech. "She was a gifted healer and teacher in Kirkwall. I'm sure any time she could spare the Inquisiton would be an asset, especially with the inquisitor planning to dedicate a portion of Skyhold to be hospital." Cullen knew he was repeating himself, though it was too late to correct. He could feel Varric's eyes on him as he continued to sketch a rough draft of the repairs he wanted with his measly half piece of charcoal, but he dutifully ignored him.

"So-" Varric drew the short word out for far too long, "you really aren't ever going to ever talk about what happened when we left Kirkwall with her." Cullen exhaled something between a scoff and a growl, dropping his charcoal and bracing himself against his small, splintered, makeshift desk in the courtyard.

"Varric, I appreciate all that you do here-"

"Well thanks, Curly!" he replied as if he fully did not anticipate the coming censure -which Cullen was quite sure that he did. The former templar pinched the bridge of his nose.

"That being said, I don't think we really know each other well enough to be having this conversation." He paused before releainge the hold on his nose and picking up his pencil again. "Not that there is even anything to discuss."

"We've fought side by side in the heat of battle! Nothing draws two people together more than that. And love affairs between templars and mages are the bestselling stories! Everyone knows that." Cullen hadn't indulged in embarrassed sputtering and quite a few years, but he was dangerously close to doing so just then.

"I assure you that whatever story you conjure in your mind would be far more interesting than reality. You are looking for something that isn't there that will only embarrass both myself and Miss Hawke, should you continue this line of questioning when she arrives."

"If there is one thing I know, it's stories," Varric replied, "And women don't kiss men like that unless there's a story behind it." Cullen could feel the color rising up to his hairline as Varric seemed painfully unaware at his lack of propriety or decorum. Though, based on his novels, the commander gathered that neither of those things was a priority to the nosy dwarf. Varric sighed, crossing his arms in dejection. "Just like Bethany back when I asked her. Tight-lipped as a Chantry Mother in a whorehouse." Cullen squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to avoid the mental image the storyteller painted.

"I wish I could say I was sorry to disappoint you, which I'm not. I am hardly an authority on why she did something over two years ago. People do strange things when they survive battle."

"People tend to do things they've been wanting to do for a long time when they survive a battle," Varric said rather amiably.

"I had the greatest respect for Miss Hawke in the Circle, and she seemed to feel the same. We were both very grateful to be alive, and I suppose that was her way of . . . celebrating, I suppose."

"I've survived plenty of battles with Bethany, and she never quite 'celebrated' any of us. Not even Sebastian, though, I'm pretty sure she might have if he wasn't-"

"Is there anything else I can do for you Varric?" Cullen said abruptly. "I really must finish these plans for the builders."


	4. Does the Champion of Kirkwall Hate You, or Is He Joking?: A Biography

Bethany was going to kill Varric.

"Hawke, Bethany," the Inquisitor said with the warmest familiarity, "may I present Commander Rutherford, formerly of the Templar Order. He leads our forces of the Inquisition. We would have sunk long ago if not for him."

She was going to rip out each one of that Maker-forsaken dwarf's chest hairs. One by one. Perhaps she would tie the wretch up by his ankles and feed him to the Seeker. He had spared no detail on Lady Pentaghast's hatred of him in his letters. She surely would do the job admirably.

"Cullen!" Garrett said with empty affection. "What an unpleasant surprise!" The Inquisitor, who struck her as good-natured and almost as easy in his own skin as her brother, gave a confused looked to his commander, who still managed to nod politely.

"Champion. Miss Hawke," he greeted with a surprising lack of stiffness, considering the barely concealed contempt emanating from her brother.

"You know each other?" the Inquisitor asked.

"Unfortunately," Garrett quipped.

"Now, now, brother," she said, trying her best to sound confident and non-plussed, in spite of the fact that the sight of the templar had her magic tingling at her fingertips and adrenaline coursing through her veins, unsure if she was ready to fight or to flee. "We mustn't offend the whole castle on the first day. At least try to spread it out a bit. It's nice to see you again… Commander, is it now?" Bethany attempted to calm the racing of her heart using every ounce of discipline at her disposal to keep her magic at bay. She only hoped Cullen could not sense it coming forth.

"I'm having a hard time telling if you are jesting or genuinely dislike each other," Maxwell -as the Inquisitor asked to be called- admitted, though he did not seem troubled in the slightest.

"Does the Champion of Kirkwall Hate You, or Is He Joking?: A Biography," Bethany said thoughtfully. "Honestly, Your Worship, he doesn't know half of the time."

"I usually let my sword figure it out as I go along," Garrett grumbled, not taking his eyes off of the templar.

"I'm afraid we parted on less than amiable terms in Kirkwall during the rebellion," Cullen explained to his leader before turning back to them, seemingly unbothered by Garrett's version of aggression. "It is unfortunate that our last meeting was less than amiable, Champion, but you and your family have nothing to fear from me. As the Inquisitor has said, I am no longer with the Order, and have no quarrel with mages, least of all those who are lending their aid to our cause." He was looking at Garrett, even though she was the mage in question. He was avoiding her. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

"No quarrel with mages?" Garrett questioned sardonically. "You?"

"I assure you my commander has treated our mages with the utmost respect and care," the Inquisitor interjected easily, trying to assuage the irritation evident in Hawke's eyes. "He has worked tirelessly to ensure those under Grand Enchanter Fiona have had a safe place under our banner."

"Yes, Varric told us that you offered sanctuary for the mages to join you of their own free will," Bethany said, placing a gentle hand on Garrett's shoulder, hoping the contact would calm both of them. "As a fellow mage, I offer my sincerest thanks for treating them with dignity. I'm pleased to know you had no objections to taking them on as allies, Commander. This is indeed a strange world in which we find ourselves." She finally turned her eyes to Cullen's when she was confident her voice would not tremble with anxiety, watching him closely. She had observed him for years in the Circle. If there was a templar she could read almost as easily as a book, it was the former knight-captain. He cleared his throat with a polite nod, subtly shifting his body weight to the other side. He seemed wholly uncomfortable underneath his mask of diplomatic veneer. Poor Cullen never was very good at hiding his opinion on things. He betrayed no disagreement but something told her he was not completely in agreement with the way the the Inquisitor handled the mages, though it hardly mattered now.

"Cullen has supported us every step of the way, including helping the mages find their home here," the Inquisitor interceded, a bit too quickly. Bethany found the Inquisitor's obvious protective streak of his commander quite interesting, considering he was also a mage. "As a matter of fact, we have thought of dedicating that tower," he pointed to an impressive structure to the back of the fortress, "specifically for magical study. While I oppose Circles as they stood, education is vital for mages in learning to control their magic. With the influx we have of mages in our ranks, we thought it a good resource to have. Cullen," Maxwell said, placing a confident hand on the commander's shoulder. "I would like to speak with Hawke and Varric before Cassandra finally fulfills her threats on our storyteller's life. Would you be so kind as to give Miss Hawke a tour of our gardens?" He turned to Bethany before Garrett could interject. "Varric tells me you have something of a gift with herbs, Bethany. I couldn't keep a cactus alive if my life depended upon it, I'm afraid. If I could get your advice on how to use the earth at our disposal during your visit, I'd be most grateful." Garrett finally succeeded with an interruption.

"Bethany can stay with-"

"Your sister is safe within our walls, Champion, I assure you. And even if she were not, she seems quite capable of handling herself. Come along now. Varric is waiting on the wall. It's about as far away from our dear seeker as he could find." Garrett met his eyes with Bethany's. She gave a small, encouraging smile and slight nod. After a meaningful glare tossed in the commander's direction, he followed the Inquisitor, who was chattering away to Hawke about… something.

"He seems… nice," Bethany offered to her only remaining audience: an extremely nervous looking Cullen. "Not exactly what I expected. I heard he killed a high dragon near Redcliffe. Did he talk it to death?" She was grateful her attempt to lighten the mood was successful. The weight of tension almost visibly lifted from his shoulders as he shuffled his feet quietly once again.

"He wields his words almost as keenly as our ambassador," Cullen replied. "Don't let the talking fool you. He listens more closely than you think." She offered a polite smile in response, feeling as if she was having some sort of strange out-of-body experience. She suddenly felt as if she were back in the Gallows, bound with enchanter robes and a dozen templars breathing down her neck. But, she was having a conversation with a high ranking templar. Or former templar, whatever he was. It had been two years since she had been free, but something in the back of her mind made her feel as if she was doing something wrong.

"As a younger sibling, I am very aware of when someone is trying to pawn me off, Knight Cap- Commander," she offered. "I wouldn't wish to interfere in your duties so that you can be a nanny for the day for an unoccupied visitor. I can show myself to this ailing garden if you could point me in the direction."

"It would be my pleasure to show you our grounds," he replied. "It would actually be a good opportunity to survey our progress. That is, ah-" he paused nervously, and Bethany frowned a bit at the unusual lack of confidence in tem- ex-templar. "That is unless you would prefer to go alone." Bethany inhaled deeply, blowing out a sigh with a nervous chuckle as her body finally seemed convinced that she was not about to fight for her life. She suddenly felt exhausted.

"I'll be frank with you, Commander, I don't mean to be rude, but the last time I saw you, talking to you with any sort of familiarity could gotten me in line for the Rite of Tranquility or executed. There is some very strange part of my mind that expects Merideth to be there if I were to look over my shoulder, waiting to strike me down. Forgive me, I wasn't exactly prepared to see you here, and I'm not quite sure how to talk to you about touring a garden."

The seconds of excruciating silence ticked by both of them. Bethany held her chin high. She might have just admitted she was subconsciously terrified of the man, but she still had her pride.

"I suppose that saved us several days of awkward pleasantries while we ignore the obvious," he finally said, his brown eyes a bit downcast.

"You always did like efficiency," she commented as she crossed her arms over her chest and joining him in focusing her gaze on some interesting pebble arrangement in the ground. The attempt at humor seemed more sad than genuine. Cullen still offered wistful smirk.

"Varric told me you were coming," he admitted, his voice turning sober. "I thought he would have done the same for you." Bethany rolled her eyes.

"If your seeker wants to kill him, she's going to have to get in line," she growled as much her airy voice would allow.

"I'm not sure why he chose not to tell you, but I would never wish to be a cause of discomfort for you." She wanted to lie and say that he didn't. But it would still be a lie.

"It's not necessarily  _you_ ," she replied, a bit more softly. "I've always thought you to be a virtuous man. For a templar." He could hear a subtle teasing in her words. He was grateful for the levity. "I just … I wasn't expecting to be reminded of certain chapters of my life that I thought were closed today. I'm afraid my brother and I do not always react well to surprises. I apologize for his -well, you know my brother." Cullen smiled.

"Think nothing of it. I … I know I don't represent the best years of your life, Bethany. Maker's breath,  _I_  was the one who took you to the Circle in the first place. I know at the time I thought-" He stopped, and Bethany was glad of it. "Perhaps you can find it in your heart to believe that two years of war can change a person. I'm not the same man I was in Circle. Or at least I try not to be. I didn't just leave the Order to serve here. I left because-" She eyed him cautiously, but made no reply. Whatever train of thought he had seemed abandoned under her scrutiny. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret taking you there. I regret many things I've done and said over the years, but that one haunts me the most." The raven-haired mage squeezed her eyes tightly together, turning her back to the commander while trying to hide her mortification.

"I think that is far too much honesty for one day," she said shakily, trying to subtly wipe her eyes to ensure no tears sprung forth.

"I apologize if I-"

"No don't," she interrupted, turning to face him again, certain her face was dry. "You don't need to apologize. I think I should like to see the garden, if you don't mind. I'm curious as to what could actually grow here in the middle of the Frostbacks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I found a beta! Yay!
> 
> Also a small note. I originally thought I remembered Bethany's eyes being blue, but they appear to usually be brown, so I changed that in the first chapter.


	5. Of Strained Reunions and Absent Fanfare

Her hair was longer. It hung in a braid that she kept over the front of her should and down to her waist. Her black locks still framed her fair face in a not-quite sort of curl. Her deep brown eyes still felt as if they could see right through him. She no longer wore Circle robes, but a heavy cloth armor that appeared more … ornamental than practical. But knowing her, he had no doubt it kept her well protected. He noticed her fingers held a collection of various rings, and few long strings of beads adorned her plaited tresses. A snugly fit collar necklace had made it more difficult to keep his attention off of her long pale neck, along with other features in that general area. The threat of being skewered by the Champion, however, helped to keep his eyes on hers. Altogether, the changes were not unpleasant, but Cullen had always seen Bethany as more of an austere sort of woman. He didn't think he has seen her wear a piece of jewelry in the decade that he had known her. He was not sure why she would suddenly take up such interests in the middle of a war, but he was also not sure he would ever have reason enough to ask her.

He briefly wondered if Hawke and the Inquisitor had finished discussing Corypheus, but he could not bring himself to end his strange afternoon with Bethany Hawke. For the first time in months, he could concentrate on something other than his headaches; and for the first time in weeks, he could think of something other than building a wall high enough to keep Corypheus out.

After the intensity of their re-introduction, they both seemed content to save the discussion of their history for another time. Or possibly never. The thought of leaving their parting in Kirkwall completely unaddressed was unnerving, but he did not want to risk seeing her upset again. Surely she remembered. In the wake of destruction that had carved its way through their former city, she had made her escape as the walls crumbled around her and her brother. Not, however, before kissing him with more passion than his previous twenty-seven years had contained. There in front of all of his fellow templars to behold. _He_ certainly hadn't forgotten, in spite of his refusal to discuss it with the nosy storyteller.

He had thought his feelings for her - back in what seemed was almost another life - were little more than a passing infatuation. One that was as ill-advised as it was unrequited. No amount of praying or chanting seemed to take it from him. Meridith's merciless rhetoric would have had him believe that she was using blood magic to make him her thrall. But he knew that to be untrue. She had just been a young woman trying desperately to protect her family and pick up the pieces of her life. She just had the misfortune of attracting his attention, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it was wrong. Her voice was just a little too soft. Her touch with children was just a little too gentle. The fire in her eyes when she spoke out against injustice in the Circle was just a little too intense and her words held far too much reason for him to keep his feelings at bay. All of that was nothing to say of the dark beauty she emanated with every sad smile. The Knight-Commander's madness might have been what finally drove him for the Order, but his heart had let go of it many years before. He would only be lying to himself if he denied that his feelings for the mage were completely unconnected to his suddenly seeing her peers as little more than uncontrollable weapons.

"The soil quality is quite extraordinary," Bethany said as they made their way into the great hall. "Whatever magic that enables this fortress to flourish here in the middle of the mountains must be truly old, indeed. Elven, if I had to guess. It might be best to cultivate some of the rarer herbs here, as I'm quite sure they could grow quite well here. I can write to some contacts I have who work with potions and tonics and try to get a decent supply for you while I'm here."

"That would be most helpful. We have more pilgrims arriving every day," Cullen answered. "Our hall is just through here, if you would like to see it."

"Of course she would," a gravely voice suddenly said. Cullen felt a flood of quiet panic swell within his chest as Varric approached the two of them, leaving whatever shady associates he was dealing with at the moment just behind him.

"Varric," Bethany greeted tightly as she narrowed her eyes at her long-time friend.

"Sunshine!" Varric said without any reservation of affection. "You are looking great kid. I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks so, am I right, Commander?" Cullen coughed, nodding as discreetly as possible as Bethany's eyes almost became slits.

"Varric," Bethany repeated, thought the warning tone was unmistakable.

"What?" Varric said in his very liberal version of 'innocent.' "Can't a dwarf compliment his friend that he hasn't seen in months?"

"Months?" Cullen suddenly questioned, his amusement showing only in his eyes to the trained eye. "I thought you told Cassandra that you haven't seen the Hawkes in years and couldn't reach them. How terribly upset she's going to be."

"Ooh! Seeker Pentaghast!" Bethany said excitedly. "I heard she was instrumental in the forming of the Inquisition. Are we going to meet her now?" Varric's color drained just one shade.

"I thought we could go see her now, yes," Cullen confirmed without missing a step.

"You are coming with us, aren't you Varric?" Bethany asked. "I hear you are the best of friends with the Seeker."

"I have a thing," the dwarf said. "See you later, Beth. Good luck with the Seeker. She's a feisty one." His departure was more swift than his customary casual stride. Bethany thought she might have seen a small dust cloud kick up behind him.

"That really is far too much fun," she said behind him.

"I don't think he moves that quickly even when the Inquisitor tells him to saddle up for fieldwork," the Commander replied. Bethany smiled, turning her eyes to the rest of the hall that was clearly in the midst of remodeling. "I can only imagine what this room must have been like once. Very impressive."

"Ambassador Montilyet has been working tirelessly to restore it. Most of our resources have been diverted to the fortifications and growing our army to defend against Corypheus. But Josephine insists the hall be capable of receiving guests."

"A point of contention between the two of you, no doubt," Bethany said, crossing her arms as she stepped cautiously over the debris, her footsteps echoing in the enormous chamber.

"We've had a minor disagreement, I suppose," Cullen replied, confused as to her point. Josephine had stomped out of the war room on several occasions, now that he thought about it. But entertaining nobles were hardly important when they had demon rifts opening across Thedas.

"It was the same when First Enchanter Orsino fought for more study equipment in the Gallows. You insisted to the Knight-Commander that you needed funds to better equip your templars. Ever the pragmatist, still, I see." Cullen remained quiet, resting his hands on the hilt of his sword, still uncertain of the younger Hawke's motive behind her words. She was not one to speak idly. At least, not that he remembered. Perhaps her life out of the tower had changed that. He had not changed outwardly as much as he felt, it seemed.

"I have always been more inclined to focus of the practicality of things," he replied.

"I know," she said, a distant smile on her kind features They reached what was once a throne area. The massive windows had been blown out long ago, leaving a rather spectacular view of the mountains. "I can see why your ambassador would want to see it restored. This place is magnificent. It is sad to see it in such disrepair. Though I suppose that is my fondness for lost causes talking."

"Hopefully we will one day have the resources secured to see her vision complete, once our forces are secured and trained."

"Well, on the other hand, if you make it presentable enough to receive the Orlesian mucky-mucks, they might be able to throw resources your way more quickly than you think. But that's just a little me talking. What is this door?"

* * *

Cassandra could only see red.

That slimy, conniving, self-serving dwarf had made a fool of her for the last time. If not for the Inquisitor's interference, she would have snapped that sawed-off, tree trunk body of his in twain. For the moment, she had to settle for a rather unfortunate training dummy that would soon be retired to fire kindling at the tavern. With every swipe of her sword and bash of her shield, she imagined it was was that bottom-dweller of a marksman.

"I know I've pissed off many people in my life, but surely this is a little uncalled for," came the sly, dark voice behind her. Her sword was raised as she turned around with half a mind to pound whomever had interrupted her into the ground. Seeing the man that could only ever be the Champion of Kirkwall before her, after evading her for so long. She channeled every ounce of fury into one final blow, sending the training dummy to the ground with a snap of the weakened post.

"Ser Hawke, I presume," Cassandra greeted in her strained lilt, doing her best to keep her barely contained rage at bay. She would save it for the individual for whom she truly held it. "It is an honor to have you at Skyhold."

"How nice to hear it, especially from a woman who just split an armored dummy in half. Once I'm done pissing my pants, I'll be happy to shake your hand." Lady Pentaghast's thin brows came together in disgust until she deciphered a compliment towards her combat abilities in his words.

"Maybe later," Cassandra replied. Her body was suddenly exhausted as her adrenaline faded, leaving only her worn muscles behind.

"I understand I might have upset you in my desire for secrecy as to my location," he replied. "I apologize for the subterfuge. If I had known you truly needed help in this, I would have come without hesitation. But my enemies have been innumerable since I fled Kirkwall. You can only imagine what someone from the Chantry questioning my friends appeared to be. Varric has a special talent for ruffling feathers; but if it has any bearing with you, he was trying to protect a friend."

"It does not," the seeker replied firmly. "But I thank you for your time, all the same. Good day, Champion."

"You've been chasing after me for over a year, and all I get is a 'Good day, Champion'?"

"Were you expecting a fanfare?"

"A banner or two would have been nice." Casandra wasn't sure if it was the exhaustion setting in, but she managed to form a fain half smile on her normally severe mouth.

"Next time, perhaps."

\- 6 -


End file.
